


Sacrifices of War

by bioticblackops



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Discussion of Abortion, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-14 21:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10544960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticblackops/pseuds/bioticblackops
Summary: "I'm pregnant. I'm not going to keep it."A story about hard choices, loss, and the dark moments of war that don't happen on the battlefield.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a happy story. It will not have a happy ending. It deals with a very complicated and controversial topic, I'm well aware of that and I did my best to try and paint a clear picture of why someone might go against what they want for what they think is best in an extreme situation. I caution you to read the tags and decide after that if you are sure you want to read this story. 
> 
> The fic is set during ACOWAR.

"I'm pregnant."

The words rang as hollow in the clearing as they rang in her heart. It almost surprised her that spoken out loud, they did not seem any different than in her mind. They were haunting, hurting, hollow things threatening to tear her apart if she lowered her shields even for one second. So she didn't. Not even for him. Especially not for him.

Feyre raised her eyes from her knotted hands, trying to untangle her fingers and stop her nails from digging into her skin and drawing blood. Instead, she looked at the male she'd thrown those cruel words at, like knives and claws and teeth she had no control over. She'd thought longer how to tell him than about her decision. But no matter how long she fretted, she couldn't find a way not to hurt him and time was running out. Their time. Her time. So she'd decided to call on him, meet him, hurt him. With words that should be joyful instead of cruel. Words that should mark a new beginning instead of an end.

Motionless Rhys stood across from her on the other side of the border in the middle of the woods, a small clearing they only used if it couldn't be helped. This was only their second meeting. The first had brought them into this situation as the desperate need to touch one another drowned out any sensible thought. Feyre cursed her weakness. Cursed the war, the enemy court she was trapped in, cursed the Cauldron itself. Everything ... everything but him and the tiny life that was growing inside of her. The tiny life that would soon be-

Feyre snapped her walls back up as she felt them starting to crumble, startling Rhys out of his stupor with the suddenness of her reaction over the bond. He had yet to say something. His face was pale and so carefully neutral it broke her heart all over again. The fact that he showed nothing told her more than words that he knew what it meant. He hadn't moved although she knew he felt the pull as much as she did. They had already crossed the line once and even without ... that, it had been a close call. Meeting him alone was a dangerous thing. Touching him ... It could be the end of everything they'd worked for, rendering every single one of their sacrifices worthless. Just like the small secret she was carrying that soon wouldn't be a secret anymore.

Rhys' mouth opened and closed again as he tried to find words that wouldn't come. That would make the situation miraculously better. Despite not feeling what he felt, Feyre knew exactly what it meant that her mate was at a loss for words. She knew exactly which thoughts were creeping up on him, threatening to tear his heart apart.

"The last time we met," she said, answering the "when" and "how" flickering over his face as well as the "who" that haunted his eyes. She couldn't fault him for that. She was sleeping in their enemy’s bed, after all. Pretending she was his to touch, to kiss, to love. That sleeping was all she did, and even hardly that as soon as he was near, Rhys didn't know. They didn't talk about these things in the few precious stolen moments they had together, in person or otherwise. She only supplied him with the things he needed to know to win the war - be it information about Tamlin's inner circle, Hybern's movements, or the reminder that she loved him more than reason, more than the stars and life itself, to keep him going.

Taking a deep breath, Rhys nodded. She could see the darkness dancing along his fingertips as plans and thoughts raced through his head. Yet again, she didn't need to be in there to know what he was thinking. He was thinking the same thing she would be if it was her mate carrying the most precious gift they could be blessed with. He was thinking about how to get her out, how to get her, them, to safety. And she couldn't let him do that.

Her throat was so raw, she felt like she was swallowing razor blades. Her voice was a wasteland of broken glass and pain as she forced herself to say: "I'm not keeping it."

Time stood still.

The only sound in the clearing, in the small bubble build from magic that stopped their voices from carrying, was her own uneven breathing. Rhys seemed to have stopped altogether. He merely stood there, staring at her, with eyes drowning in horror and sorrow and understanding.

"Feyre ..."

Rhys stopped as if unsure where his plea would go or what would fall from his lips if he kept talking. So Feyre did.

“You know there is no other choice. This is war. This is the right thing to do.”

"The right thing to do? This is our child you are talking about, Feyre!" Rhys bit out, his voice as heavy with pain as her heart.

"Do you think I do not know that? Do you think I do not know what I'm carrying under my heart in an enemy court day after day after day," she demanded, her voice as raw as her soul. "Do you think I don't know what we're about to lose?"

The tears she'd promised herself not to spill were streaming down her face now, hot trails burning her skin. Rhys’ features softened in an instant and regret flickered over his face. Without thinking he made a step forward. Feyre took a step back.

Rhys froze, hurt plain in his eyes and the set of his jaw. He didn't bother to mask it. She didn't know if she would rather deal with this stark honesty cutting down to her bone or the empty mask of the High Lord he tended to hide behind when he didn't want his feelings known. That he didn't bother hiding from her hurt her as much as it healed her. But not enough. Not right now.

"Do you think," Feyre said through the pain that threatened to draw her under. "That I don't lay awake at night, wondering if it wouldn't all be easier if I just burned that whole damned place to ashes to keep it safe? Just for a chance to bring something good into this world? Something with my eyes and your black hair and your beautiful wings?"

Feyre took a deep breath.

"Do you think, I have not thought about the consequences?"

Rhys closed his eyes and she didn't know if it was better or worse that he didn't look her in the eye when she said:

"I haven't slept in days because the thoughts what our enemies would do if they learned of our child has kept me awake. To it, to us, to our family, to those we swore to protect. You know as well as I do to what lengths they would go to use it against us. How much they would hurt it. I cannot allow it. I cannot be so selfish."

"Wanting this is not selfish, Feyre."

Tears were running down his face, unapologetic. Every single drop felt like another fracture in her heart. Darkness was now surrounding them, sheltering them. Stopping anyone from seeing the High Lord of the Night Court mourning his unborn child.

"Is it not? We are at war. We're surrounded by enemies with no allies to call our own and we don't know who to trust. What would they do if they not only knew that I am your High Lady but also carrying your child? To what lengths would they go to use this to their advantage?"

Feyre took a shuddering breath, trying to drive away the pictures of what-ifs that haunted her every waking moment, that robbed her of her sleep.

"You said it yourself, every child of yours would be hunted from the day it was conceived. And in times like these ..."

He didn't need to voice the thoughts going through his head. She could read every single one in the starless violet pools staring at her with the kind of desperation and heartbreak she had never wanted to find there, especially not by her own making. She knew he wanted to fight for this, wanted to tell her how he would protect their child, despite all odds. But they both knew the empty promises and hopes for what they were. They did not have the luxury to lie or allow themselves even one more weakness. So she went for the heart of it all and asked:

"What would you be willing to sacrifice, Rhys? Yourself? Our friends? Our Family? Velaris? Pyrthian? Me?"

"Feyre-"

"Because this is the choice we are facing. We have to chose between trying to raise a child in a doomed world burning around us or fighting with all we have got to give that world another chance so we might at some point get to raise a child in peace."

She took another deep breath. All the thoughts, all the arguments she’d laid out in her mind, she still wasn’t sure if they were for him or for her own sake. They hurt all the same.

"And you know I just can't leave ... them. Even if it wasn't ... even if I wasn't ... even if things were different. I need to be there. We need all the information we can get to have a shot at peace. We can't turn our back on this. This is more than one life that depends on us, Rhys. You know that. This is about more than just us."

Silence settled over them as the darkness curled around her like a cat. Like her mate wanted to but couldn't because it meant breaking rules they’d already broken once - with disastrous consequences. She could feel his presence on the other side of her wall. Everything in her wanted to let him in but she feared what would happen if she did.

Rhys stood motionless, staring at nothing. She wasn't even sure he saw her anymore. Wherever he was, it wasn't a pleasant place to be and she desperately wanted to bring him back. She didn't know how.

When he spoke, his voice startled her.

"You don't need to ask my or anyone's permission to decide over your own body. You know that. Even if the times were different, I would never force you to do something you don't like. To carry a child you don't want or are not ready to have."

Feyre wanted to ask him what would would happen if she wanted it. If knowing there was something growing inside of her had changed her wish to wait until they had more time. But she was afraid of his answer because it might have all her resolve crumble and go against what she knew she needed to do.

Feyre took a deep breath.

"I know I don't need your permission. But I need your support."

Rhys’ breathing caught.

"Feyre-"

"I know it would've been kinder to ... not tell you. To keep it to myself and spare you the hurt because I know you want this. Maybe as much as I do."

His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something but Feyre didn't give him a chance to speak. There was more she needed to say.

"I know it's selfish but I needed to tell you. I need your support in this. Not because I want or need your permission. Not because you are my High Lord or my husband or my mate. Not even because you are the father. You are all of this but I needed you to know because you are my friend and I'm scared and I can't be alone in this. You are my best friend and my home, Rhys. My equal in everything. And I can't do this without you."

"You are wrong," Rhys said, his voice rough and nearly breaking. "You could do this alone. But you don't have to. You will never have to. I'll always be there for you, Feyre. Always."

Feyre wouldn't have thought it possible but she found she loved him more fiercely with every word, even if there was nothing he could do.

"Tell me what you need of me. Tell me how I can make this easier for you. What I can say to make this better."

Touch me. Hold me. Tell me everything will be alright. Tell me we will have another chance at this. Tell me this won't change anything. Tell me this won't tear us apart.

Instead, Feyre said: "There is nothing you can do."

Rhys swallowed and looked like he wanted to say something but no words came over his lips. Her High Lord, her mate, looked lost in a way he hadn't even Under the Mountain, not even in their first fight against Hypern when she'd been taken back to the Spring Court. And there was nothing she could do, no words that would make it better or heal the wounds she’d inflicted.

His shields were up, hiding whatever he was feeling and thinking from her. Despite her doing the same, it still hurt. That they'd been pushed to this point. The urge to cross that line and wrap her arms around him was almost overwhelming. To feel safe for once, in his arms. To feel his heart beating against her and make sure she hadn't shattered it beyond repair.

"Say something," Feyre whispered, hardly recognizing her own voice. Whatever Rhys heard, it brought his mind back to her. His eyes returned to hers and the sudden violence and rage in them took her breath away. It was a look he hardly got, only when those he loved were threatened, and for a long moment Feyre thought it was directed at her.

"I'm thinking how much I will ravel in tearing them all limb from limb for doing this to you. From taking this away from us."

His voice wasn't his own anymore. It was that of the cruel, cunning High Lord of the Night Court the world had gotten to known. Only this time, it wasn't a mask. This time, he reveled in the thought of what he'd do to their enemies for taking yet another one of his flesh and blood. And for the first time, Feyre truly felt afraid. Afraid that this had pushed him too far, that it had wounded him too deep to recover. Her nightmares had shown her many, many ways how she could lose her mate. By now she knew that death was only one of them. Looking at the shadow talons threatening to break free she wasn't sure if death would be the worst of them.

Feyre closed her eyes for a few seconds and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Promise me," she whispered, heart fracturing with each useless heartbeat. "Promise me this will not tear us apart. That this won't end us."

"Feyre..."

"Please," she choked, pain spilling over and trying to drown her.

Rhys looked as broken as she felt and it made her cry even harder. His talons had vanished again.

"Please..."

"Never, Feyre. You hear me? Never." His voice was darkness and heat, so firm it took away her breath. "Nothing will ever tear you away from me. Not this, not the war, not whatever else might happen. Nothing."

Darkness curled around her in a gentle caress, touching here where her mate couldn't. It was soft and soothing, loving. It was home. Her heart longed for it in a way she had never thought possible.

Rhys made a few steps toward her. This time, Feyre couldn't muster the strength to step back, no matter how much her mind screamed at her that they could not risk it. Relief and disappointment flooded her when Rhys stopped a few feet away from her, just short of the invisible barrier between them. The line they could not cross.

She had to head back soon before someone missed her. Sneaking away like that was always a risk, even if Tamlin wasn't around. There were too many eyes on her, no matter the hour of the day. She couldn't risk drawing attention to her, especially now.

Still, Feyre couldn't help it as the living, breathing bond inside of her drew her to her mate. It took every ounce of willpower to stop on her site of the line and not go into his waiting arms as she longed to, even if just for a moment.

In silence, the High Lord and the High Lady of the Night Court stood inside the clearing, swallowed by darkness and shadows that drowned out even the night around them.

Feyre felt a soft stroke on the other side of her shield, a gentle request to open and share her thoughts with him. She leaned against it, pressed her mind against the other side of the adamant wall inside of her but did not lower her shields. She could not, would not, make this even harder for him by sharing how much this threatened to shatter her. And yet it seemed like she didn't need to as he seemed to know anyway.

A sad smile that broke her heart all over again appeared on his face as he looked at her.

"You truly were born to be the High Lady of the Night Court."

"I don't feel much like a High Lady."

"Giving up what you desire most in the world for the good of your people? Who if not a High Lady would do that?"

Feyre had no answer for him so she said nothing, simply looking at her mate, mapping his features and committing them to memory. She had no idea when she would see him next. How long their dangerous game would continue.

"I need to go back soon."

"I know."

She swallowed. "I don't want to."

And I don't want you to, his eyes said while his voice said: "But you will."

Feyre nodded. Rhys' hands were balled to fists, pressed against his legs as if he was forcing himself not to reach out to her.

"Can you stay?" Feyre blurted before she could help herself. "For a few more minutes?"

Rhys features softened. "Of course. Everything for you, Feyre darling."

And just hearing his special term of endearment that she'd loathed not so long ago, helped her breath a bit easier. It helped her to believe that at one point, however far away in the future, everything would be alright again. That this wouldn’t break them. The wound it had created would hurt for a long time but she would survive it, just like everything this world had thrown against her. They would survive it.

All she could do now was hope that they would live long enough to see it.

**Author's Note:**

> Am I pro-choice? Yes.  
> Do I think every woman, every person, should have the right to do with their own body no matter the circumstances? Yes.  
> Do I think that these characters share my beliefs? Yes.  
> Do I know that these characters share my beliefs? No.  
> Do I think they would act the way I wrote them in this fic? I don't know. I am not their creator, I can not answer that question. 
> 
> The reason I wrote this fic is because when I got the prompt ("I'm pregnant"), a "what if" kept bugging me that I needed to explore and this is what happened. I wanted to create a situation in which Feyre and Rhys are confronted with one of the hardest choices they'd ever face and ... not walk away from it. War means loss and loss can come in different forms.


End file.
